


Glorious Nights

by CeramicSky



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-17
Updated: 2017-06-08
Packaged: 2018-11-01 19:17:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10928313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CeramicSky/pseuds/CeramicSky
Summary: When Jim Kirk is almost killed during a mission, Bones is forced to put him into a medically induced coma to preserve his life. Unsure when or even if Jim will wake up, the doctor must struggle through each day expecting the worst. What he doesn't know is that Jim's conscience has been tossed into the limbo between life and death, a place he names 'The Platform'. Looking out from The Platform, Jim watches Bones gradually break down and wear away, both of them powerless against what Fate has in mind.(Post Into Darkness)(A 'trigger warning' may be needed for those who are sensitive to topics such a death, grief, losing loved/close ones and alcoholism)(All Rights Reserved; You need permission to repost any part of this)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Sooo um, here we are again! This one is a multi-chaptered one ;)  
> Can also be found on Wattpad, under the same username, complete with graphics.  
> Hope you enjoy! Leave a comment and/or a kudo, it makes me smile to see that people actually read and enjoy my work :)

(And I have spent glorious nights, waiting to be alright) - Montainge, Glorious Heights

MONACHOPSIS; PART ONE

Pale cheeks drained of blood, slack from sleep, eyes closed peacefully, hiding the sky within, pink lips parted, breathing shallow while the body ran awry; this was me. Frivolous mind connected to dying flesh. I wallowed in memories, in the grey limbo that engulfed me. In that state I did not ask questions. There was no questions for me to ask, only thoughts. Sometimes I experienced pain, but it was fleeting, like swallows in a clear blue sky. Eventually an end had to come to my reminiscing. 

The first thing I saw when I emerged from the Grey was a street lamp. It burned into my mind until I looked away. I looked away; I saw! Until then my mind had no body, which meant no functions. Now I wriggled my fingers and felt each of my limbs attached to my body. I stretched and sat up slowly, looking around at my surroundings. A dimly lit train station. 

I was alone in the station, aside from the shadowy souls of two other beings mooching around a little way away. The ground rumbled as a train approached, thundering into the station. It slowed to a halt and the doors opened. The two shadows surged towards it, and I followed them, unsure of what I needed to do. 

A dark-uniformed being with its hat pulled down to hide its eyes held out his hand. The beings pressed their palms into its one and were both, in turn, admitted into the train. I hesitantly did too; its hand didn't feel like a solid object, merely a ghost of what once might have been a real hand. The being shook his head and pointed behind me at a bench. 

I frowned and retreated, sitting on the bench. The conductor (I assumed that must be its role) swept its gaze up the platform before stepping inside. The doors slid closed and the train roared off into the tunnel, lights blazing. The darkness of night returned, punctured only by the single street lamp. 

And then, in the dark, I saw him.

Sleeves rolled up past his elbows, face urgent, eyes fighting back tears while he desperately tried to bring me back; this was my best friend. He wasn't on the platform, nor was I in his medical bay. I just saw. And then I saw myself, too, lying on the bed in front of him. He hunched over me, his shoulders rising with deep breaths.

Hovering like a ghost nearby was the stiff-postured figure of my first officer. "How is he, doctor?" he asked.

"Stable. I've managed to put him in a comatose state. I don't know what else I can do," Bones replied, head still dipped over my unconscious body. "Dammit, Jim, what did you do this time?"

I scrunched my eyes and tried to remember, but all I could recall was fear, washing through me in waves. Bones' head raised, his eyes shining, and he sighed. "Look, Spock, I don't know what almost killed him. I haven't examined him thoroughly, yet, but there appears to be no physical damage. I can't do an autopsy because, thank god, he's still alive, and I can't do a biopsy because he's in a very fragile state. I'm not sure what else there is to do, other than wait for more information and hope he doesn't take a turn for the worst."

"You are implying that the Enterprise must continue forward with no captain," Spock noted. Bones growled impatiently. 

"Well what am I meant to do? I've done everything I can!" His voice was raised, cheeks flushed pink. Spock retreated, leaving Bones alone.

I reached out to him, but my hand wouldn't comply. Another train rumbled in, tearing me away from my best friend. The new souls piled aboard. I once again attempted to enter the train, but was directed back to the bench. When I looked back to the Enterprise, Bones' forehead was against my chest, arms curled around his head. He was teetering on the edge of awake and asleep.

I could not speak to him or touch him, but I granted him a dreamless, unpuncuated sleep.

 

Monachopsis;  
The subtle but persistent feeling of being out of place, as maladapted to your surroundings as a seal on a beach - lumbering, clumsy, easily distracted, huddled in the company of other misfits, unable to recognise the ambient roar of your intended habitat, in which you'd be fluidly, brilliantly, effortlessly at home.  
\- The Dictionary Of Obscure Sorrows


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written whilst drunk off travel and The Amity Affliction :)

MONACHOPSIS; Part Two

They called an emergency meeting of all the major crew the next day, to discuss me. Tension was high, the air crackling red to my watching eyes in the train station. Many of my friends had bleary eyes from staying up worrying - I watched these individuals who had missed the cool embrace of sleep to listen to erratic thoughts about my wellbeing gather, and thanked the silent air for the friendship each gave me. I gazed out at the bruised eyes and unkempt hair, tears burning behind my eyelids. Even Spock had spent the night pacing back and forth across the carpet of his room, trying to come to terms with his sudden leap to the most influential member of the crew. 

And, at the head of the table, the closest to the door in case of an emergency regarding my unresponsive body, was Leonard McCoy, by far the most ragged looking of the party. He had been subject to immense change over the night. Fringe fluffed up in wiry strands from falling asleep against my chest - an action he scolded himself for fiercely upon rising - eyes sunken and cheeks sallow. It's amazing what worry, what loss, can do to a person in just one night. His shoulders were slumped and pupils darting around the room in a manner that seemed unlike his character. 

He said, "I don't want this to go for too long. Really, I should be down there seeing to him, checking if he's still going okay." His fingers tapped impatiently at the table, an action so normal it seemed out of place. His mind whispered, 'I don't want to say his name, I don't want to say his name'. I forgave him for this. His mind was a calming olive green that I stared hard at - I couldn't exactly see what was going on in his head, just feel the general aura he gave off. 

Spock, a deep regal blue, spoke up. "As you all probably know, our captain has been influenced greatly by something on the surface - he was beamed up yesterday in critical condition. Dr McCoy has managed to stabilise him, but the only conceivable way is to keep him in a comatose state." There were those two words again, comatose state. They floated around Spock's mind as if he hadn't really realised their meaning. 

"I don't know what made him like this. It's risky to try and work it out at this point in time, but I need to know in order to try and save him," Bones commented, more to himself than anyone else. 

Spock blinked, purple eating at the edges of the blue of his mind. "I volunteer to beam down to the surface and gather data about possible-" 

"Too risky," Scotty spoke up. I turned my eyes to him. His mind sung canary yellow. "You could also get bitten by the radioactive spider that made our captain like this." From the bench I was sitting on I snickered quietly. Spock frowned and opened his mouth to respond - at that moment, another train rumbled in, breaking me away from my friends and drowning out their words. Shadowy souls crept toward the conductor. I stayed in the bench. I felt a physical repulsion from the train. It wasn't my time. The conductor let its gaze linger on my face before waving the train onward. 

I gazed at the street lamp in silence, not thinking, just feeling, seeing, experiencing. When I reached my gaze across to the Enterprise again, my name was whizzing through everyone's brains. It was left unspoken. Spock's forehead was creased delicately, confusion fluttering behind his lashes. Scotty held a grim smile, guilt gnawing at the humour in his mind. Bones grunted. "I just want you to know I wouldn't go out of my way to save you if you went down there and suffered the same thing..." he trailed off. Spock pursed his lips.

Bones leaned his head on his arms, his mind crackling with questions, worries, confusion. I longed to reach out and cradle him in my arms, but we were far apart in mind and soul, in blood and flesh. I cried as doubt began to invade his thoughts, doubt about his worthiness as a doctor, about his existence. Chekhov, in a impulsive surge forward, put an arm around him in comfort and I beamed down at the boy as the doubt crackled lower in Bones' mind. For a precious few minutes Chekhov became my favourite person in the world while he rubbed Bones' back as the rest of the crew watched on at the scene unfolding before them. I could see query in their minds at such a strong character such as Leonard McCoy teetering on the edge of a bottomless abyss...!

"Jim will be fine," Chekhov reassured firmly, the first time my name had been uttered since the meeting had been called. These words clearly signified the end of the meeting and the party dispersed, each retreating back to their workplaces wondering how they would continue operating with the knowledge that their captain lay unprotected and fragile in a bed with crisp white sheets covering him. Bones sprang from his crumpled position, eager to get back to me, to see how I was faring. Chekhov worriedly watched him go.

That night, basked in the dim glow of the screens that monitored my vitals, Bones drank deeply from a flask of dark auburn alcohol in an effort to make his thoughts fuzz and melt away. His first sip heralded the start of a deep dip into the dangerous world of repeat and I watched helplessly as trains passed in front of me and into the beyond.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you are going to leave criticism, can you also leave feedback so I can improve? I'm open to criticism, but quite frankly I believe there's no point if you're not going to tell me how to improve :). Thanks.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took so long to update :(. My wifi isn't good.

MONACHOPSIS; Part Three

It was two weeks after I had first arrived on The Platform (I named it as such, just as I named the state beforehand the Grey, and the final unknown destination of the train the Beyond). Bones was drinking steadily now, barely stepping foot in any other place but his room and medical bay. My pale body had settled - in the first few days of unconsciousness my vitals had gone crazy, but it seemed like I had gotten used to the comatose state. Now I lay like a rag doll on the bed I had been assigned. I didn't tend to look at myself often; it felt weird to be looking down at my body. Instead I focused my attention on Bones and the rest of my friends and crew.

Spock had quickly risen up and become the backbone of the ship - he had requested that no detailed information about my condition escape to the minor crew of the Enterprise. There had been an announcement that explained very vaguely what had happened, but nothing more. The Vulcan appeared stiff and regal in the day, piloting the starship in the way he must have always wished I would, but at night, in the refines of his room, he let his human side show. It had become a ritual - slowly walk into the room, lock the manual and automatic door mechanisms from inside, switch off the light and sit in total darkness, thinking. Sometimes he worked on making his mind totally blank, a flat grey line with no sign of colour. Other times he did the exact opposite, and let his emotions rage in a bright splattering of colours.

Chekhov seemed to be becoming increasingly worried in Bones, always touching his shoulder, asking him if he was alright, reassuring him. I thanked him profusely from the bench I sat in - with every touch Bones was jolted back into the real world, away from his thoughts of doubt and failure. Just as Spock became the backbone of the ship, Chekhov became the backbone of the doctor. 

Bones had not lost all hope, at least. He had asked Spock if they could divert the original course from a small planet for a routine inspection to a slightly more high-tech Human populated one that had a proper hospital where it would be easier to take care of me. When he was making this request a plethora of different thoughts rushed through his mind, making it static and irregular. I could tell, and I think Spock could too, that he felt embarrassed that he wasn't able to do anything for me, and that he was conflicted in asking to separate me from the Enterprise, and from himself. Spock touched his shoulder, as he had seen Chekhov do, and told him that he had done a lot so far and that they would see what they could do. To Bones this gesture was unusually sympathetic and understanding; to Spock, it was necessary. 

The other trapped soul appeared on the platform shortly after Bones had fallen asleep over my lifeless body, a new habit of his. The souls I always saw on the platform seemed to know exactly why they were there, shadows that picked themselves up after the Grey and waited patiently for the train. They boarded the train as if they had know what to do all their lives and blared off into the Beyond. This one peered around, staying close to the lamppost. When the train did come in, severing the real world from my sight, the soul lurched uncertainly after the others. The conductor pointed it to where I was sitting, and it cautiously alighted next to me on the bench.

“Hello,” I said, but it didn't seem to hear me. It was silent, and I looked away from it, wondering why it was here. Was it like me, stuck in a coma? Or maybe it was prematurely dying, and about to be drawn back to the warmth of life. I thought about why I was there. I still couldn't remember what had happened. The train rumbled off. On the Enterprise, Bones shifted on my chest, sleepily nuzzling his face deeper into my shirt. Above him, in the safety of The Platform, I raised my hand and dug my fist into my chest, just above my heart, trying to pretend it was Bones’ head. The other soul watched me silently, its shadowed head inclined in my direction.

On the other side of the starship, Chekhov sat cross-legged in the middle of his bed, bathed in the dim light of a blue lava lamp. The lamp was one of the only possessions from Earth that he’d taken with him, a reminder of his childhood, of his home. He watched the mesmerising blobs move through the lamp, his bottom lip between nervous teeth. He pushed back a curl of hair. He was worried - he had gone to Bones’ room to check up on him, only to find it empty. He had stood in the middle of the room for what seemed like hours, even though the actual time barely amounted five minutes, staring out the small window at the stars outside. The room held a peaceful timelessness, and he felt like he was floating underwater. He had returned to his room with his mind awash with thoughts.

Now Chekhov slid off his bed, his socks muffling his footsteps as he exited his room once more. He had an idea of where Bones would be. He felt the need to check up on the man; he’d taken the weight of care on his shoulders. He thought of himself as a babysitter taking care of a lonely child. He padded through the silent bulk of the Enterprise, passing by rooms he would never see the inside of, rooms just like his but a million times different. Rooms without tacky glow-in-the-dark stars stuck to the ceiling, rooms without blue lava lamps gyrating gently on the bedside table. 

The door to the medical ward slid open with a quiet whirring that didn't wake the sleeping doctor. Chekhov let his eyes crawl across the room until he found my bed, tucked up in the back corner of the room; at the time, it had been the only one available. The young boy gently passed the other beds, some housing patients lying motionless under their blankets, others empty. The blinking lights from the screens that monitored their vitals were the only source of luminescence. Chekhov fixed his eyes on the far end of the room. He felt small, vulnerable, scared. I tried to tell him that it was okay, tried to give him some sign that he was doing the right thing. My fist remained on my chest. Bones’ head was a weight I would never feel.

Chekhov stood awkwardly, a meter away from the doctor sleeping on his captain’s still body. He watched the rise and fall of my torso as I breathed, traced his eyes over the curve of Bones’ back. Now that he was present in the room, Chekhov didn't know what to do. He was here now. He hadn't planned any further. He thought about waking Bones up, helping him to his room. He could smell the faint scent of alcohol, and shuddered, trying to conjure up the courage to touch Bones, wake him. Finally, with one fearful glance at my pale face, he turned and made his way back, reversing his rout. His mind was a grey line, like how Spock had been striving to make his. No thoughts, no feelings, just a numbness that ate away at him.

Back in the warmth of his own room, Chekhov knelt on his bed and switched off the lava lamp. Blobs settled on the bottom of the lamp; Chekhov settled in his bed, staring up at the faint outline of the plastic stars on his ceiling as he calmed his breathing and tangled himself in sleep.


	4. SOLIVIGANT; Part One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I haven't updated in a while - I'm been busy with school. It's almost the holidays and I should have more writing time, so hopefully more updates!

His roughened fingers laced through the strands of my hair gently, falling into a steady beat - in time with his breath he drew his fingertips along my scalp; out, in, out, in, over, back, through. His ever darkening eyes were fixed on some irrelevant distant point, swimming with emotions.

"Ah, fuck it Jim," he finally spoke, rubbing his free arm over his eyes, "you just had to go get yourself in trouble, didn't you?"

Bones cast his eyes briefly at the empty bottle sitting on the small metal table next to my bed. He sighed and looked back to my sickly face. "What am I going to do, Jim? I don't want to walk alone. I don't want to walk without you," he sighed, gazing at my inert features. I wanted to call out to him, tell him he wasn't alone, he would never be alone, but I knew I couldn't.

Bones slid his hand down from my hair, running his fingers over my jaw. He cupped my chin in his hand and sighed again, once more rubbing an arm over his eyes. He did not want to permit himself to cry.

Spock cleared his throat behind the doctor, heralding his arrival in the medical bay. Bones straightened, not looking around. His hand remained against my cheek. The Vulcan correctly took his silence as an invitation to talk. "We will arrive on the planet Vesna in six days. You, one of your nurses and myself will beam down with the captain and see that he is safely taken by medical staff to the hospital."

"And then we'll beam back up without him and forget all about him," Bones muttered bitterly.

"I will assume position of captain until we receive word of Kirk's recovery, on which we will turn back towards Vesna," Spock relayed.

"I wish I could help him more than this," Bones said quietly, still not looking around.

"You have done a lot already," Spock replied. "If you had not stabilised him, he would be dead."

Bones winced a little. He sighed, scrubbing at his eyes with the back of his hand. "I love him, you know," he breathed.

Spock cast his eyes down politely. Images of my previous death in the warp core and his resulting emotional breakdown faded through his mind. "I understand," he said softly, and meant it.

Bones gave an annoyed grunt. "I love him, Spock. More than a friend should. I-... I don't know what I'm feeling but I know it's past the realms of platonic friendship."

Here Spock was not able to give empathy. He remained silent, eyes still trained on his feet. Bones choked out a sob, giving a small anguished cry at the arrival of unwelcome tears. He stood, unable to look at my pathetic limo body, turning and awkwardly standing in front of Spock, sobbing silently. I reached my conscience into the Vulcan's sealed mind.

I could see empathy now - I could see the connection my first officer was drawing with my best friend's grief and his breakdown. I could see indecision flicker around his thoughts, his half-human blood running hot in his green veins. He stepped forward and put a hand on the doctor's shoulder, his fingers pressing firmly. Bones dipped his head. "Thank you," he whispered, closing his eyes.

Spock dropped his hand, briefly glancing at my body. He didn't understand Bones' feelings for me; he would never fully understand these human feelings that moved beyond friendship. He took a step back, bowing his head.

Bones' thoughts were stained with sadness and alcohol. I was sure that if I cracked his skull open a sea of tired tears would trickle out instead of a brain. He wandered alone in amongst the stars, surrounded by planets but never finding a way to reach out to them for help.

Eventually Spock saw no use in standing and watching Bones watch me, and silently exited the room. 

Bones didn't hear him leave.

.................................................................................................  
Solivigant; wandering alone


End file.
